


Firsts

by Jajajaja



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Date, Firsts, GW2017B, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:25:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jajajaja/pseuds/Jajajaja
Summary: Ian and Mickey finally go on their first date. Both deal with their nerves as they get ready in their respective houses.





	Firsts

Quit yanking me around, bitch," Mickey said, jerking his head away and blindly trying to slap Mandy's hands away from his hair.

"Mickey," she said slowly with a calmness that was much scarier than her actual anger, "if you want me to fix your fucking hair, you need to stay fucking still. Got it?" She grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back towards her.

"Whatever," he grumbled, getting up from the dining room table, "I don't need this shit."

"Don't ask for my help next time then, asshole," Mandy said to his retreating figure. Mickey held up his middle finger at her, not bother to look back. Mandy huffed annoyedly.

Mickey set up shop in his bathroom, using the smudgy, cracked mirror to adjust his hair into perfection. He was pretty sure he had used too much gel, but if Ian was gonna care about that, he could fuck right off.

Mickey studied his face. Why did he look so tired? And when did he get so old? He pulled down his lower eyelids and stared at himself. Why the fuck had he agreed to do this? Oh yeah, a certain beautiful redhead had wanted to go out on a "real" date. Mickey was helpless to deny him.

He was finally content with the way his hair looked. Mickey ventured back into his bedroom to compose his outfit for the evening. Not that it matter much because it was ending up on either his floor or Ian's. Hehe.

Mickey had two, maybe three of what he would consider date-shirts. One of them was his black button down; one was a hand-me-down from Iggy that had a small bloodstain on the sleeve; and the other was a little too small for him, like if he breathed too deeply or moved to quickly, he might Hulk out of it. Mickey wasn't even sure why he was pretending like he had to choose his outfit. There was only one outfit.

Mickey put on the black button down and his best, least-baggy jeans. Svetlana had once claimed that they were the only pair of jeans that didn't make it look like he was floating in his clothes. And that they made his ass look good. That second detail was important.

He headed back to the bathroom mirror with his two ties in his hands. One was blue and the other was a dark grey with tiny red dots. He held each up to his neck and judged his reflection in the mirror. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing. He sighed resignedly to himself and went to go find Mandy.

He ventured into her room to find Mandy sitting on her bed and flipping through Cosmopolitan. Yevgeny laid next to her, napping.

"Yo, douchebag," he said kind of quietly. "Which one?" He held up one tie in each hand.

Mandy set the magazine down in her lap and gave him a withering look. "Is that any way to ask your wise sister for help?"

Mickey frowned and kept holding the ties. Mandy rolled her eyes.

"The blue one, duh. Brings out your eyes."

"But isn't that obvious?" Mickey asked, inspecting the blue tie. "He'll know that I'm trying too hard."

"Well, aren't you trying too hard?"

"I don't want _him_  to know that."

Mandy rolled her eyes again. "I know you know that you're being a fucking idiot right now. Ian's not gonna give a single shit what kinda tie you wear. He just wants to go out with you. That's all." Mandy picked her magazine back up.

"Why did he say something?"

"That's best friend-best friend privilege," Mandy said.

"What about bros before hoes?" Mickey asked

"You're both my bros," Mandy said, flipping the page. "Makes it too confusing."

"So the blue one?" Mickey asked, holding it up to his neck.

"If you're not gonna take my expert advice, then don't bother asking for it, but, yes, the blue one. It brings out your eyes," Mandy repeated despite Mickey's eye roll.

"Fine," he said, then turned back to his bedroom.

Mandy tried to continue reading the magazine, but she couldn't. She was too distracted by Ian and Mickey's looming date. She'd heard plenty about it from Ian, so she was already personally invested. She set the magazine down in her dresser and put down a pillow where she had been laying so that Yevgeny wouldn't roll off to his death.

She pushed back the KEEP THE FUCK OUT sign to find Mickey fumbling with his tie. She batted his hands away and started tying the tie for him.

"How have you still not learned?" she asked.

"Usually Gallagher just does it for me. Or Svet," he said a little defensively.

"I'll teach you next time," she said, finishing the knot and adjusting his collar.

"Whatever," he said. "Thanks."

"No problem. You tucking your shirt in?"

"Yeah," he said, already starting the task.

Mandy sat down on his bed. "You should wear that black belt. The pleather one."

Mickey finished tucking the shirt and rooted around his closet for a second to find the belt. He put it on. He picked up the cologne the top of his dresser and turned it around a few times in his hands. Mandy watched him with a small smile on her face.

"You should wear it," she said finally. "I know Ian likes it."

"Okay," Mickey said. He put the cologne on the insides of his wrists then his neck. Mandy watched, impressed. She wasn't sure who had taught Mickey to put on cologne because it sure as fuck wasn't Terry. "Svetlana," he supplied, putting the cologne back on the dresser because apparently he could read her mind.

"What time is your date?" Mandy asked.

"Seven."

Mandy took out her cellphone to check the time. "It's 6:13."

Mickey scowled. "I know."

"You're just trying to be on time," Mandy said, holding up her hands. "I can respect that."

Mickey's scowl softened. "I'm picking him up," he said. Mickey scratched his bottom lip with the nail of his thumb. "It's closer from his house."

"Where're you going?" Mandy asked, as thought she hadn't already heard from Ian.

"Sizzlers," Mickey said with a private little smile. "Gonna get me a steak so rare it screams when I bite it." He was allowed to recycle jokes if he had a new audience, sue him.

Mandy chuckled. "Wanna play Call of Duty until then?"

Mickey shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

\-----------------------

"Where is my green shirt?" Ian shouted down from the top of the stairs. He strode from the front staircase to the back ones and jogged down the steps.

"Fi, have you seen my green shirt?" Ian asked. He jabbed at her shoulder to get her attention. Fiona turned around from the sink and frown at him. She pointed aggressively at the phone in her hand. "Ughhh," he groaned.

He moved purposefully into the living room and stood in front of the TV. "Heyyyy," Debbie whined. Lip crossed his arms and scowled at him.

"Have any of you seen my green shirt?"

"Which one?" Carl asked, trying not to miss the boxing going on behind Ian.

"The nice one. The button down."

"Ohhh," Carl said, looking up and away from Ian, "I might have borrowed that. Sorry, bro."

"What?!" Ian demanded.

"I had a date with Adriana," Carl said, shrugging. "It is a nice shirt though."

"Yes, I know it's a nice fucking shirt, Carl," Ian said, getting more and more flustered. "That's why I fucking bought it, and that's why I fucking need it now for my fucking date in twenty fucking minutes!"

"Hey, hey!" Lip shouted, interrupting Ian's spiraling. "Can you have your freak out somewhere else? We're trying to watch a match." He gestured at the TV.

"Ugh!" Ian exclaimed, like the petulant child he pretended he wasn't, and stormed back towards the kitchen.

Debbie dropped Franny on Carl's lap and followed Ian. Ian nearly ran into Fiona as she left the kitchen.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Hey, what were you looking for?" Fiona asked, resting her hands on her hips.

"My green shirt, but that mystery's fucking solved because Carl and his girlfriend jizzed all over it," he said loudly so that Carl could hear.

"I didn't jizz on your shirt," Carl called back.

"Fuck you," Ian replied.

"You're talking about the button down, right?" Fiona interrupted.

"Yeah."

"I washed for you. It's pressed, hanging in your closet."

"Really?" Ian asked, instantly perking up.

"Yeah, I knew you'd need it."

Ian grabbed Fiona by the shoulders and smacked a kiss onto her cheek. "I love you, Fi. You're a saint." He ran up the stairs.

"No problem," Fiona called after him, and shook her head.

Debbie opened the door to the boys' room to find Ian already in his nice jeans and buttoning up the green shirt. She leaned against the doorway as watched him frantically getting ready.

"You shouldn't wear that tie," Debbie said, using her chin to gesture at the one hanging over his shoulders. "It's too thin. Makes your head look big."

"You're right," he said, throwing it onto the floor. He spedpast her and into Lip's room. He yanked open the second drawer of Lip's dresser and searched for the tie he was looking for. Lip's drawers were already messy enough that whatever Ian did wasn't going to make a difference.

Debbie stood in the hallway and watched him. He rushed into the bathroom and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"I don't even have time to gel it properly," he moaned.

"Just leave it like that," Debbie said, joining him. Ian handed her the tie. She sat down on the closed toilet lid. He frowned at her like she was speaking Greek. "Trust me," she said. Ian rolled his eyes. "No, for real."

"I look like a frizzy mess." He raked his finger through his hair again.

"That messy, kinda looks like you just got outta bed look is in," Debbie informed him. "You know, like how Trevor's hair is that kinda curly. It's hot."

"Debs," Ian sighed.

"Just trust me, Ian. I know what I'm talking about."

"Fine," he said, putting a bit of gel on his hands and running it through his hair to tame it just a little bit.

"You excited?" Debbie asked, playing the smooth fabric in her hand.

"Yeah."

"Nervous?"

Ian shrugged. He squeezed some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and began aggressively brushing his teeth.

"How have you guys never been on a date before? You've been dating for like five years."

"Six," Ian corrected through the frothy toothpaste in his mouth.

"Shit," Debbie breathed.

Ian spit the toothpaste from his mouth and rinsed. He washed his face, careful to avoid his hair, and patted his face down with a towel. All of that moving his head around had put his hair back into a semi-tousled state. She handed him back the tie and he secured it around his neck. He left the bathroom to sit down on his bed as he pulled on his socks and his dress shoes.

"What about eyeliner?" Debbie asked from back at her post in the doorway of the boys' bedroom.

"Yeah, no," Ian said, shaking his head.

"Come on. If you're worried about gender norms, don't be. Trevor says that the rigid structure of the fabricated gender binary is crumbling as we speak."

"And everyday I regret more and more that I ever introduced you guys," Ian said, as he yanked on his shoe with a grimace. "Just don't wanna be reminded of my coked out stripper days, ya know."

He tied his laces in that really fast fancy Boy Scout way and stood up. He looked around the room and snapped his fingers, leaving Debbie in his wake. She followed him downstairs to the living room. He picked up his watch from the old, largely forgotten piano and secured it around his wrist.

"Oh, awesome," Carl said, gesturing at Ian, "you found the shirt. Where was it?"

"The closet," Ian said still kind of annoyedly.

"How the fuck did you not find it if it was in the closet?" Carl asked.

"I didn't look in the closet because I knew it wasn't in the closet."

"But they're clothes. They closet should be the first place you—"

"Hey, hey," Lip interjected. "Leave him alone. If anyone would be an expert on closets, it's Ian here." Lip and Fiona giggled at his joke, while Ian gave them a withering glare.

"Hey, I'm not your good side, remember," Fiona said from the armchair. "I saved the day."

Ian gave them all the middle finger. He left for the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water. Most of his siblings and his niece sat on the couch and chairs around the TV, still watching wrestling. Ian took small sips of water and paced behind the couch. He checked his watch every few seconds. Yup, it was still 6:57.

"I love you, man," Lip said, leaning his head back onto the top of the couch so that he could see Ian, "but if you don't stop pacing I'm gonna have to shoot you. Sit the fuck down."

Ian perched on the front staircase and peeled the paper on his water bottle. His phone chimed with a text from Mickey. *Be there in a few,* it said. Ian stood up and inched towards the front door. This was dumb. He had basically been married to Mickey for a while. He considered his son theirs. There was no reason to be nervous to go out and eat steaks in some room while wearing a tie, and yet here he was.

"Mickey said a few minutes," Ian announced. They all turned back to look at him, even Franny.

"Just remember, don't put out 'til the third date," Carl advised with a cheeky smile. "Wouldn't wanna be slutty."

"It's his body," Debbie said, giving Carl a little slap. She turned to Ian. "But seriously, please don't be those people that fuck in the bathroom."

"I would never," Ian said, avoiding Debbie's eyes and remembering that particularly desperate situation last month.

"Aww," Fiona cooed, kicking out her leg to get Lip's attention, "our little Ian's going out on a date. They grow up so fast."

"Where does the time go?" Lip said, shaking his head, before he and Fiona giggled at each other again.

Ian's phone chimed with another text just as he heard a knock on the front door. The living room fell silent as Ian's siblings strained to hear Ian and Mickey's exchange.

Ian opened the front door before Mickey had the chance to knock again. The sight of his boyfriend looking all cleaned up knocked some of the breath out of Ian.

"Hey," Mickey said.

"Hey," Ian replied with a dazzling smile on his face. "You look nice."

"You too. Dig the hair," Mickey said, looking at his shoes as he complemented Ian.

"Debbie said you would." He heard Debbie high-fiving Carl in the background.

"So... let's fucking go," Mickey said, clearly a little uncomfortable.

"Yup," Ian said, reaching for his house keys.

"Have him home by eleven," Carl called out.

"Please," Lip said, "we'd be lucky if we see him next week." He turned to Ian. "I don't understand why you still pretend to live here. Just move to Milkovich Manor already. We don't have room for all your shit."

"Wow, really feeling the love, guys," Ian said, as he closed the door on chorus of goodbyes.

"I tell you every fucking week you should just move back in official," Mickey said as they walked down the steps from the Gallaghers' front porch. "You basically live there anyway. Mandy would shit herself with happiness. Same with Yev."

"I know," Ian sighed. They'd had this conversation a million times. Once Ian had started getting serious about getting medicated the first time, he had moved back in with his siblings and pretty much broken up with Mickey. Of course, there was no keeping these two apart. At first it had been mostly Mickey coming over to the Gallagher house, sometimes bringing Yevgeny with him. Pretty soon Ian was having week-long sleepovers at Mickey's even though he refused to move back in despite Mickey insistence that he should just sack up and do it.

Mickey and Ian ran into each other on the passenger side of Mickey's car.

"What are you doing?" Ian asked as they both reached for the door handle.

"Being a fucking gentlemen," Mickey said gruffly. His hand rested on the handle but he didn't open it. "I don't fucking know, man. Mandy got all in my head."

Ian stepped back to let Mickey open the door. "No complaints. It's sweet."

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey said, walking around to the other side of the car. He dropped into the driver's seat and closed his door. "Don't get used to it."

Ian smile. He leaned across the center console and planted a stealth kiss on Mickey's cheek.

Mickey wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. He chuckled to himself. "You know I'm actually kinda nervous. Isn't that the stupidest fucking thing."

Ian smiled and looked down into his lap. "I don't know. Same, I guess. But it's like, there's almost nothing that you or I could do in the span of the next few hours that could mess this up. You're it for me. The only difference now is that some minimum wage workers at Sizzlers are gonna know it too."

"I guess." Mickey turned the key in the ignition and put the car into drive. "I'm just psyching myself out. Let's go."

Ian rolled down the window and flipped off his siblings who could be seen spying on them from the window. "Later, losers," he shouted as the car sped away.

Mickey rolled his eyes and Ian rolled the window back up. They drove silently for a while.

"Don't tire yourself out with dinner, okay," Ian said. "Got plans for after."

"I bet you do," Mickey said. He bit his bottom lip and looked Ian up from down from the corner of his eye.

"Not those plans, you perv... although, yeah, for after... real plans."

"Hmm, dinner _and_  a show?" Mickey said.

"Yeah, man," Ian said, nodding. "You don't know date-Ian. Date-Ian's got moves."

"I refuse to believe that," Mickey said, pulling into a parking space.

They got out of the car and walked towards Sizzlers. When they got to the restaurant, Ian opened the front door for Mickey. "After you, dear," he said cheekily.

"Is this part of the moves?" Mickey asked with a roll of his eyes.

Ian followed close behind him, and pressed another stealth kiss to Mickey's cheek. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he whispered.

 


End file.
